- Illinois, USA
- January 26
- On this blog: All words (other than identified quotations) © Sharon Nesbit-Davis, All rights reserved.
You can find me on Facebook: Sharon Nesbit-Daivs, or "The Mime Writes" Logo Design by Dianaani
I work as the Education & Community Engagement Director of a Regional Arts Council which means I beg "the deciders" to fund and support the arts for everyone, not just the rich.
I am also a mime. For those that hate mimes, I understand. But you'll never find me annoying people on the street, unless I'm living there. I'm a "concert mime" ...which means you have to buy a ticket. I haven't done much mime lately...I'd rather be writing.
I've been married to my one and only since 1976. Still happy. Still in love. Two kids, eight grandkids. In college I became a Baha'i (a world religion whose main theme is unity). It keeps me relatively sane in a world gone mad.
MY RECENT POSTS
- From the Memoir: Driving
October 05, 2014 11:27PM
- My Perfectly Flawed Father
(tiny revisions with Update)
June 15, 2014 12:55PM
- Writers & Families
June 01, 2014 11:58AM
May 28, 2014 01:03PM
- My Never-Will-Do List
January 04, 2014 06:46AM
MY RECENT COMMENTS
proverb: "Happy is the father
happy with his
October 20, 2014 11:18PM
- “It cannot open soon
enough...will be looking for
October 15, 2014 02:26PM
- “write, write, write, and
then write some more.”
October 07, 2014 12:38AM
- “thanks for the
nightmares...but then you
October 06, 2014 08:34PM
- “I heard about the plot
of this...somewhere... Maybe
(reported by a calm
October 06, 2014 04:06PM
- MY LINKS
- MY LINKS
- MY LINKS
- MY LINKS
My family did not go to church on Easter Sunday. It was too crowded and my father's parking spot would not be honored by those who didn't know it was his. He might not get his pew either (second row from the back) and he did not want to to to the "Meet &… Read full post »
About a year ago, a friend told
me the only message he got when he went on a nine day religious
pilgrimage was 'PAY ATTENTION".
That thought stuck and surfaces often. I push it aside because it’s my weakness. I’ve diagnosed myself with adult Attention Deficit Disorder, though I kno/… Read full post »
The Kennedy Center's First Place "Lorraine Hansberry Playwriting Award", is "The Wind and the Breeze" by Nathan Alan Davis.
Yes, I'm proud. And when things like this happen, I remember the doctor who didn't think he should be born.
This doctor, recommended by every… Read full post »
Driving to work in the morning rush hour, half listening to the radio, artsy words popped out. "Imagination"... "Creativity"... "Drama". I turned up the volume. Hopefully a story validating the arts. Perhaps Congress suddenly realiz… Read full post »
I’ve heard jokes and snide remarks about Black History Month for years. President Ford was the first president to make it official in 1976. That year I worked in a grade school. Some white teachers asked why an entire month when the material could be covered in less than a we… Read full post »
I used my brothers’ new crayons and wrote every letter I knew on our bare wood stairs. My mother screamed when she found it and blamed my older brothers. She did not accuse me because I wasn't in school yet. My brothers denied involvement, pointed out clues and named th… Read full post »
“You have green eyes.” He was a poet and never said what he meant outright, and I wanted to impress him with my depth. “Aren’t we all jealous of something?” I shrugged and looked away, gazed at the campus quad, hoping to look pensive and cute.
We met the nigh… Read full post »
It is the summer before kindergarten. There is a vacation playground program at the neighborhood school. My mother lets me go with my older brothers after lunch. They take too long to eat but if I tell them to hurry they eat slower, so I wait outside to jump and twirl instead of… Read full post »
Years ago, my eight year old son asked, "Do you know how I can tell our country is racist and sexist?" On the drive to school, our conversations were a mix of comedy and philosophy. At the time he was considering becoming a comedic scientist. I didn't know if this was… Read full post »
The trouble with having an imagination is that you imagine things.
I've been planning my husband's funeral for thirty six years. I know where it will be and what we will wear. The clothing choice has evolved. Now he buys tailor-made suits instead of cast-offs from the Goodwill. M… Read full post »
I stopped for gas on my way home and the police brought a young man out of the station in hand cuffs. Around his neck hung a student ID. They took him to the back of the squad car and out of my view.
Store workers came out for… Read full post »
I celebrated my fifth decade by performing a one-woman show entitled "Mime in Mental Pause." I wasn't there yet. But I was ready. Unrelenting pain, blood clots, and ruined panties were not fun, no matter how I adjusted my attitude. The uni… Read full post »
My son is a writer. We've talked about how we write stories in our head, even when we take a break. We can't stop them.
My daughter-in-love posted this on her page from their apple-picking adventure.
I didn't ask, but am guessing it inspired my son's tweet.
"It… Read full post »
The week-end my parents moved from their home and into the assisted living facility near me, Mom sighed and pouted. “I wish we could both die here, right now.”
“That could be arranged.”
She cried when I said I was joking.
Later she quizzed my&… Read full post »
Growing up with Republicans, I know how vile the talk can be about Democrats. It was so bad during the Kennedy vs. Nixon battle that I cried when Kennedy won. My mother finally agreed to giving me a birthday party, and now the world was going to end. I… Read full post »
On Fridays in French class our teacher let us choose a topic to discuss. It could be anything as long as we spoke French. We started with pets, TV shows, and the Beatles. We tested her by talking about disrespectful teachers, and went on to parents and Vietnam.… Read full post »
The summer before I went to Jr. High I knew it was my last summer being a kid. My next door neighbor was a year older and felt embarrassed playing with me. If her new friends from school came over she abandoned me until they left. That summer I rode… Read full post »
Wedding Day, August 14, 1976
I saw “The Music Man” when I was 10. That night I sat in my bedroom window, looked up at the stars and sang “Goodnight my someone, goodnight, my love” just like Marian the librarian. I imagined at that same mo/… Read full post »
Of my almost three years at Open Salon, this is the worst dust storm I have witnessed. I usually put on a gas mask when they happen, but this time it's seeping through cracks and making my eyes tear up.
At the risk of sounding like Pollyanna (forgive me but I d… Read full post »
I met Helen when I was in college. She and her husband, Bob, lived close to campus and had Baha'i gatherings every Sunday. She made a huge pot of Chili and I came because the dorm cafeteria didn't serve a meal on Sunday nights. I was checking into the… Read full post »
It happened on a Sunday afternoon. I remember being in the kitchen when my cell phone rang and thinking it was a bad connection. My friend's voice was breaking up and what she said made no sense. “Taevius has been shot. I’m out of town. Can you get to the… Read full post »
The name my parents gave me was "Sharon". I asked my mother once why they chose it, hoping for a good story. There wasn't one. "We liked it." They didn't know, or care what the name meant. I looked it up to see if they accidently named me something significant. "Sharon"… Read full post »
1961 was my Indian summer. I was nine and watched Westerns on TV cheering for the Indians to win. They didn't. I checked out the only book about Indians in the children't section of the library: “The Story of Squanto”. Most days I convinced the girl across the street to play… Read full post »